Fatel signs
by tiears
Summary: AU. Yes, the title is correct - a mix of fate and fatal. Signs, be it lighting or sounds have always been present when some life-altering event takes place in Chris Jericho's life. Are they just warnings or are they meant to guide? PG13 for language


**Disclaimer: **Ev oui lyh nayt drec fedruid y dnyhcmydan, dryh e kiacc E TU ufh ajanodrehk eh drec beala fnedehk, e sayh dobehk, dryd e cu yvvaldeuhydamo lymm y lrybdan. Oac, yc oui lyh damm, E ys PUNAT, cu pnehk uh dra myofanc, pypo!

Translate at your own damn risk - www. pixel scapes. com /twoflower/albhed.html

Be sure to remove the spacing ;)

Notes – AU, set in the present time. Chris parent's died when he was 6. He is now 14.

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**Prologue - The escape**

It was one of those nights. The moon gazed sadly upon the steely water, the lake reflected a million tiny teardrops and the stars pulsed with the rhythm of an universe unknown. A breeze whispered through the trees, slowly stirring the leaves that were not yet ready to fall. The grass bent unwillingly, rippling as if it were waves upon the sea. The air was warm and sweet, thick with the scents of the forests and the land. The wind smelt of life, and as it flowed like water over every little thing, the earth felt of peace.

Of course, Chris Jericho was oblivious to this.

Here, there was neither breeze nor moonlight, only shadows, which crept upon him in both day and night. He was cloaked in darkness. It was thick in his lungs, and it smothered him.

He was alone. Always had been, throughout his life without his parents. You would have thought that he would be used to it, though nothing could be further from the truth. He chuckled bitterly, recalling all the previous loveless foster homes he had been passed through unceremoniously, only to end up back in the orphanage. Damn those bonafied jackasses, those free-of-charge whores! What did they think he was - some pet to be discarded at whim?

He remembered that once upon a time, he had had parents that adored him, loved him. But they were dead now, cold, 6 foot under, after that horrible car accident. Though it had occurred on his 6th birthday, which was many years back, he could remember it like yesterday.

_Flashback_

6-year old Chris woke up groggily, arms flailing around in an attempt to stretch, only to discover that he was strapped down by the seat belt.

He was confused by the change of surroundings – last he remembered, they were at his favourite buffet, HBK, having a ball of a time pigging out, celebrating his birthday…..

They were having a great time – he and his father were goofing around, competing to see who could eat the most number of rounds. His mother originally frowned at the antics of both son and father, but soon realized they weren't going to stop. Hence, she did what anybody who was losing a battle of wills would do besides throwing temper – she joined in.

Chris was somewhat surprised by this. "But mummy, you're a woman! How can you beat me?" he questioned confidently.

His mother, Loretta turned to him with what she hoped was an indignant look on her face "Keep that up junior, and I shall pinch your cheeks till your new nickname is rosy!"

Chris gulped. He turned to his father, Ted for help. His father shrugged "Sorry son, your mom might ground me if I tried to help. I did warn you about women's tempers, didn't I?"

"Hey!" She protested. "I resent that statement! You are sooooooo.."

"never ee.eee.ever going to see the light again when I ground your sorry ass! " his dad finished the sentence. "See son? Classic example!"

"I ought to smack you on the head for that!"

"Why? Because you can't handle the truth? I'm just giving our son a lesson in life, a very important one, if I may add."

"No, you ape, for swearing!"

"Oh, that…oops"

With the "battle of the sexes" issue forgotten, both parents turned their attention to Chris. Chris felt uneasy – you never knew what women could do, his father had told him. Hence, he took the wisest course of action his 6-year-old mind could think of besides ducking under the table, his all time weapon that had yet to fail…..

"I love you mummy!" Chris blurted, half pouting.

Loretta laughed. "Fine, this time you win, kiddo" she said, reaching over to ruffle his hair.

"See, I told you I would win, didn't I, didn't I?" Chris proclaimed, but at the thought of his cheeks being pinched, he quickly added "But that's because you let me win, mummy."

"Good you know it."

"Of course I do!" Chris said. "I am smart, after all, not to mention cute!"

"Well, of course you are, you got that from me, after all." His father replied.

His mother shook her head with laughter – they were really two of a kind, like father like son.

"And to think I was wondering what on earth could possibly have compelled me to marry you." She said, with a twinkle in her eyes. Ted ended up pouting, along with her son. Yup, two of a kind was right.

xoxoxox

1 hour, lots of noise and food later, they were asked politely to leave, as the closing time was fast approaching. By this time, little Chris was fast asleep. Careful not to wake him up, they carried him to the car and strapped him in as best as they could in his given state. They then got into the car and drove off, heading back home.

Halfway back, it started raining. This was when Chris woke up. He groggily took in the surroundings, before he realized he was in the car's backseat.

"Mummy, are we there yet?" he asked

"Not yet honey, you fell asleep at HBK'S remember? See what happens when you skip your afternoon nap?"

Oh, so that's what happened, Chris realized. He was still fairly sleepy, and was about to doze off when a sudden jolt of lighting, sent a car, skidding directly into their path. It collided, and the world faded to black.

Xoxoxox

Chris woke up rather uncomfortably. It felt as though someone had stuck a straw up his nose. He blinked to clear his visions as black spots danced around his head. That was when he first hear it.

It sounded distinctively like a man crying, though Chris wasn't sure that was possible. After all, his father said that big guys don't cry. Having regained his sight, Chris turned to the source of the sound. Indeed, it was a man, a rather manly man in fact, crying. He appeared to be in his late 30s and was clad in a suit.

Chris was puzzled. Who was this wussy of a stranger sitting at his bedside crying? And more importantly, why the hell was he sitting down by his bedside?

His bedside. Chris then realized that his bed was never so narrow, or his blankets so thin. So, if this isn't my bedroom, or my bed, where am I? Chris thought, his mind scrambling to form a rationale explanation…what could have possibly happened?

He suddenly felt dizzy, chills running down his back as a sudden realization dawned on him. Oh god, no! It couldn't be, but it made perfect sense!

"I've been abducted by aliens!"

"Not exactly son, you're in the hospital." The man whom he thought was a wussy replied. "Huh?" was the best Chris could manage…"But why?" "Where's my parents? And just who are you?"

The stranger looked at Chris, taking in his wide-eyed innocence. Oh god, what have I done? The poor kid doesn't know what happened! I deserve to go to hell for this. For once in his life, Vince McMahon did not know what to say.

"I'm sorry, kid, I'm so sorry." he choked out. Taking a gulp of air, he struggled to continue – he owed the kid that much in the very least. "You were in a car accident…it was raining heavily…"

"Where's my parents? " Chris interrupted, not caring for details.

"I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt anyone", Vince said, as his breathing became more erratic "You must believe me!"

"I believe you" Chris said, hoping the man would just spill already.

Vince looked up at Chris. This was the moment in which he would destroy a child's life. He may have been a ruthless businessman at times, but never was he this heartless. But all the same, he couldn't keep it from the kid. The kid deserved better than that than to be lied to.

Then, with three simple words, he threw Chris world into a tailspin.

"They are dead."

_End Flashback _

His heart numbed, breathing constricted. The only reminder he had of them now was his long, golden mane that covered his scalp, which he inherited from his father and his blue, once shining eyes, from his mother. In fact, his mother used to call him junior – he looked just like his father sans brown eyes.

Orphanage - he hated that word. How he longed to escape their clutches, which seemed to pull him into a bleak world devoid of emotions, without any warmth. After seven long years of living such a life, he knew he was reaching his breaking point. The monotonous routine was slowly infecting him with their vile iciness. He wondered if one could go on living with a frozen heart, which he knew for certain was developing within him. If so, he mused, would living have any meaning? Could he, perhaps be able to embrace warmth without it destroying him?

He was not sure if he wanted to know the answer. He was only sure of one thing - this was going to be the last day he would spend in the orphanage. Together with a few who shared his sentiments, they were planning on escaping. Meticulous planning had taken place for months now, and he knew the whole plan like the back of his hand. Hence, this would explain why he was lying in wait behind the library shelf, using the shadows he abhorred to cover him.

As he laid in wait, he wondered with detachment, if he would be missed. Not by the nuns of course – hell, they would probably hold a mass celebration, but by the other kids. They probably wouldn't understand why he ran away, that he was so hurt and damaged on the inside, that he was nothing like the joker who he played himself to be – the guy with the 1001 nun jokes, the clown that held off-key singing matches during Sunday masses, much to the displeasure of the nuns or the smart ass who had just about as many insults as nun jokes.

Oddly enough, he didn't care. He blamed this lack of feelings on the orphanage system, that no matter how hard he tried to escape it's stringent rules and way of life, it always caught up to him in the end, at night when he slept. He supposed that his acting immaturely and trying to have fun whilst bringing it to others was his way of rebelling against the system. He had been doing it for as long as he had been in the orphanage and he realized now, that he could no longer sustain such a rebellion - it was a losing fight.

He blinked twice to clear his thoughts. A clouded mind may well cost him what he hungered for – freedom. Men have fought for it, died for it, and now, he, Chris Jericho was blinking away for it. He stifled a snort at that thought, getting back on track with the plan.

Alert, with the promise of freedom invigorating him, he glanced at his watch, trying to estimate when he would receive the signal that would tell him that the coast was clear, the defining moment of his escape.

Tap, tap, tap. At long last, he thought. Never had such sounds invoked such a joyful reaction in Chris (not even when he was cooking up some new insult to use against the nuns that ran the place, added to his ever growing arsenal), as he nimbly squeezed through the window, landing soundly on his feet. He quickly joined the rest, three to be exact, as they climbed over the gate, the last hurdle to their freedom. It had already been determined that each person would go their separate ways. Thus, not waiting for them, he headed towards the bus station to pick up his belongings that he had left in the locker for safekeeping on an excursion.

Buying a ticket out of town as far as his meager savings would allow him, he boarded the morning bus, leaving his past in a dusty trail. The future, he decided, was infinite with possibilities and uncertainties. But embracing the morning sunrays as the crack of dawn slowly descended melted away any doubt.

To new beginnings, he thought, as he raised his head in cheers, allowing the once extinct sparkle in his eyes to make a reappearance.

**TBC…**

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Author's note: 

This was actually an essay written for my school based on the title "The signal". A friend thought it would make a good story if I continued it, so after thinking about it, procrastinating and all the other nitty gritties, I tweaked it a bit for wwe consumption. Not to sure of the way it will shape up though – can't decide if I'll make it a com, a rom or both (yes, you heard me right). I think I'll base it on the results of flipping my lucky coin, provided I can find it.

As much as I love the idea of having reviews (seeing as to how this is the first time I actually posted something), I'm not demanding it. Why? Well, for the simple reason is that as much as I have stumbled upon great stories that keep me pulled to the screen and away from my plate, I haven't being reviewing for ages, so I'm in no place to ask for them. I'll really try to remember to review every time I read, but the star alignment and the weather conditions I was born under have resulted in my having selective memory and an incurable disease known as…

LAZINESS.

Till next time. Highlight for more ;)

Heh, I lied! I'm going to make this a rom…may incorporate the com..depends on how high I am. Anyways, this will eventually, somehow morph into a Jericho/Lita fic. Why? Well, because I'm the writer and I said so.

Anyways…

**Sneak peak:**

A tired, yet wide-eyed Jericho alighted the bus. He surveyed the surroundings, the new place he hoped to call home – an idyllic town bustling with life.

Walking around, whilst thinking about how to carve up some resemblance of a living for himself (perhaps a shoe shiner for the time being?), his eyes took in sights he never e..e..e..ever saw. This probably explained why he was standing in front of the biggest house in town possibly the biggest he ever saw, mouth agape. It was oh so elegant, grand, a beautiful house with a altogether not-so beautiful price tag, he thought, grimacing to himself. He could only dream of living in such a house one day. Or maybe, if they took in strays, he could get in by tomorrow.

McMahon residence, the PO box read. Ah, so that's the name of the family residing here. The name sounded oddly familiar to Chris.

"McMahon", Chris said aloud. Nope, it stirred up no memories what so ever. He frowned, he was sure he had heard it somewhere before, but it was all gray areas to him….


End file.
